


Hustle

by conceptofzero



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-02
Updated: 2012-04-02
Packaged: 2017-11-02 22:17:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conceptofzero/pseuds/conceptofzero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snowman’s the first person he’s ever really taught how to hustle. He’s pretended to teach women sometimes, mostly as a way of getting in close to them, but he’s never actually had to do more than go through the motions. It’s not all that bad, but Snowman’s a quick learner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hustle

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Decoy's birthday back in December, but ended up backburnered/forgotten.

Snowman’s the first person he’s ever really taught how to hustle. He’s pretended to teach women sometimes, mostly as a way of getting in close to them, but he’s never actually had to do more than go through the motions. It’s not all that bad, but Snowman’s a quick learner.

“The key to hustling is to make your mark think they’re pulling one over you, right to the very last shot.” Trace finishes setting up the table for the fifth time, stacking the rack with long practised ease. He makes sure she’s watching him and changes tactics, sloppily filling it the way a beginner would. “That goes for everything; the way you hold your cue, the way you stack the rack and the way you talk while you play.”

“I see. This requires a complete misdirection from your skills.” She brings her cigarette to her lips, taking another puff. They’ve got the windows closed to make this feel more like a real pool hall, and it’s not thick enough to turn the air blue, but it’s at least a start. “But I assume you can't be too obvious with that either.”

“Bingo. You want to look overconfident and dumb, or like you’ve played a few rounds on their parent’s table and you think you’ve got what it takes.” He lifts the rack, leaving that perfect triangle of balls behind. Trace sets the cue on the table, lines up his shot, and breaks the pack wide open. “Like a sucker just waiting to be taken.”

“You appeal to the greedy ones,” Snowman says, and Trace nods. She’s a quick one. “Continue.”

“In the first few games you play, if they’re trying to sucker you, they’ll let you win. No matter how bad you play, they’ll find a way to make you a winner.” Trace drops the 1 ball into the corner pocket. He quickly follows it up with the 2 ball, making his way around the table to reach the next one. “They want you to bet bigger and bigger, until they can clean you out. Then in the very last game, they’ll suddenly step up with all this skill they didn’t have before.”

“And you do the same.” Snowman keeps her eyes on the table, watching Trace sink his own number. The 4-ball is trickier, but Trace has been doing this for a long time and there’s nothing he can’t manage when he’s in the zone. He skips the 4-ball over the 8-ball and rolls it right into the side pocket. “Except, I assume you must do yours far more subtly than they.”

“You got it. You need to hustle them so they think you got lucky - real lucky. The guys who hustle aren’t exactly nice men. They’re liable to wait for you outside and break your knees when they realize they were the ones who got took.” The 5-ball is easily sunk. 6, not so much, and Trace has to pause to figure out the right angles. “Even if you make ‘em think you were just lucky, they might still do that. So you always slip out the back.”

“More advice from your father?” She inquires, and Trace nods. His dad was the one who taught him everything he knows at hustling. It was the thing that they did together, the thing that kept them close even when he wasn’t around as often as he should have been. Snowman had heard a lot about him while he was teaching her to hustle. “Did you take the back?”

“When the ladies would let me, sure.” He grins at her, and she gives a highly unladylike snort, covering her mouth a moment later. Trace laughs, going a bit red himself. He bungles his next shot and has to take a moment to cool down. “Didn’t think you’d get that one.”

“I may have been royalty, but I was never naive.” Snowman taps her cigarette ash into a nearby tray - one of many scattered over the house and always conveniently within reach of Snowman. Trace sinks the 6-ball and 7-balls with the next shot, grinning broadly to himself. He looks to Snowman, who nods with quiet approval. “Though I don't regularly visit pool halls to see what sort of women live there.”

“Yeah, well, there’s two types of girls you find at pool halls; girls with a man, or girls looking to go home with whoever has the deepest pockets that night.” Trace takes careful aim, nudging the cue ball ever so slightly. It rolls forward, knocking the 9-ball into the corner pocket, and stops right near the 10-ball. That one needs a more forceful tap. “The former will get your ass kicked. The latter seemed appealing, until I woke up and found one of them had taken all my winnings.”

“That sounds rather harsh of them.” Snowman watches him move around the side of the table, lining up his next shot. There’s something about her eyes that makes him feel like he’s 15 again and obsessed with the girl who lives next door.

“It was a lesson. Just because somebody wants to go home with you doesn’t mean they want you.” He rolls Sawbuck’s number into the far pocket, listening to the solid thunk as it hits the 1 and 2 balls. “A pool hall’s good for teaching you lessons like that. Never trust people just because they tell you they’re trustworthy. And never leave your winnings where anybody can see them.”

“Did you often take women home from the pool hall?” If she was anyone else, he would say she asked it was faux-innocence. But she’s Snowman, and if there’s one thing she isn’t, it’s innocent, so there’s absolutely nothing about the question that is either.

“Well, a few times. I’m not-” He’s getting flustered. Trace tries to clamp down on that, focusing on the next shot. 11 rolls into the pocket. 12 and 13 go together, solidly slotting in one after the other. Snowman’s still looking at him, waiting for an answer. “That’s kind of personal.”

“I see. Most of the others usually take this as an opportunity to brag about their physical prowess in the bedroom.” She steps in close to him, leaning a little over the table. And damn his sensitive nose, because the smell of her is just filling it up. “But not you.”

Other men would associate home with laundry soap and baby powder, pastel sweaters and home cooking. But not Trace. No, he has to associate home with cigarette smoke and liquor, with women in tight dresses Her perfume is good, but it’s the smell of smoke that’s even better, and maybe it’s not right to get a chubby while thinking about home, but that’s what he’s doing right now with her in his space. “I’m kind of offended that you’re expecting me to act like Itchy or Fin.”

“My apologies. I simply assumed it was typical male behaviour for your species.” She smiles at him with those sharp teeth of hers and steps away. He feels his heart beating a little too quickly, and he flubs his next shot. It’s only as he catches her smiling again that he realizes she was deliberately throwing off his game.

“You-” He says and she just laughs with delight. Trace manages to sink the 14-ball this time, and he certainly doesn’t miss when it comes to the 15-ball. He can’t help but laugh a little too. “You said you were a quick learner, but... that was good.”

“It was a start. I’ve hardly hustled you out of anything.” There’s only one ball left on the table. Trace lines up his shot, and sends the 8-ball straight into the pocket. She politely applauds, and Trace takes a mock bow. “Well done. Thank you for the lesson. I’ll need to find a way to pay you back.”

“Aw, don’t worry about it. It wasn’t even really work, just fun. It’s nice teaching somebody who learns pretty quickly.” Trace digs out the balls from the pockets and sets them up for whoever plays neck. Snowman moves around, and he’s not really paying attention, so when he turns around and finds her right behind him, he ends up jumping a bit. “Fu- fudge Snowman! Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

There’s no apology this time, just a subtle grin with a slight flash of teeth. She’s standing close to him, too close for comfort, and Trace ends up feeling a bit anxious. “I was thinking I could teach you something in exchange for the hustling lessons.”

“Yeah? I can’t think of anything I need to know but I’m open to the possibility.” Trace it doing his best to not make it obvious that he’s slightly aroused by this. He really hopes his pants are doing their job and hiding it.

“I can teach you what to do with women.” Her hand settles on his chest and then slips down. Trace’s breath catches in his throat when she settles it on his crotch and gently squeezes. “After all, you said yourself that teaching me how to hustle was more fun than work. This seems like one of the few things that’s the same on my end.”

“Um,” He blurts out, and when more words don’t come, he blurts it again, “Um.”

“Unless you’d rather not?” Her hand slides away and he whines with anguish. She raises an eyebrow at him.

“I-i yes. I want to. That’s. Great trade,” The words just come rolling out in no real order, “Right now?”

“Right now.” She starts heading upstairs, not even waiting for him. Trace follows, of course, right on her heels as they take the stairs. He’s nervous, casting glances around to make sure Fin won’t be an ass and be waiting for him outside of his door, or Snowman’s door, or that the rest of the Felt are busy doing something else. They get lucky, and there’s nobody waiting for them when Snowman opens her door and slips inside, Trace following a moment later.

He’s never been inside her room before. It’s nice. It’s really nice actually. She’s got fancy furniture and some sort of sitting room or something where you could have tea and eat elaborate looking pastries. Snowman doesn’t stop there, walking through it and into the bedroom, and he following after kicking off his shoes and locking the door.

“Shall I begin from the top? Or is there any area you think we should focus on?” She’s asking him about this stuff like they’re talking about pool instead of sex.

“I... well.” He scratches the back of his neck, trying to figure out how to bring it up. “I’ve got... a little trouble making it to the end.”

“I have a solution for that. Take a seat please.” She motions to the bed, and Trace sits on the edge. He’s not sure what they’re going to do next. In his experience, the next step is always getting naked, and then fighting with himself not to come too quick, and never quite winning that fight. So he figures she’ll drop the coat and he’ll struggle out of his own clothes.

What he doesn’t expect is for her to set a pillow on the floor and to kneel on it, starting on his pants a moment later. Trace’s hands hover, not sure if he should touch her, not willing to stop her even though part of him things this is a bad idea. Snowman undoes his pants with ease, sliding his cock out. “Fuc- fuuudge, Snowman-”

“Have you ever had a woman do this for you?” She asks, fingers rubbing up and down his shaft. Trace shakes his head no, hands grabbing onto the walls. There’s not really anywhere for him to actually hold on to, so he just presses his palms flat. “In that case, we’re going to need something to keep you from coming until I’ve had a chance to go over everything.”

Snowman reaches over into the drawer of her bedside table, sorting through things. She pulls out a leather strap that’s raises far more questions than it answers. “Hey, is that-” The question’s neatly answered when she slides it around the base of his cock and balls and neatly snaps the fastener together. The whole thing is somewhat snug, a slight pressure that he can’t quite ignore. “Um.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. But I can’t teach you a thing if you come in the first three minutes.” Her hand wraps around his prick and strokes him a few times. “First things: if she offers to go down on you and she doesn’t get herself a pillow, offer her one for her knees. Politeness will go a long way.”

“Pillow, got it,” Trace can’t stop sounding nervous. He doesn’t want to, but it just comes out anyway. Her hand squeezes a little tighter, slowly pumping him. Trace bites his upper lip as she leans in, tongue swiping over the head of his cock. “Fff- Snowman!” 

“Second. Hands off her head, unless she asks you to grab her.” Her eyes are focused up on him, her tongue licking over the head of his cock every few words. She’s so calm, and he’s about ready to fall apart, and they haven’t even really begun yet. But she’s a woman, a classy sexy as hell dame who’s out of his league, and if she can keep it together, then he can too. “Don’t be greedy. If you want more, ask, don’t take. No one responds well to unwelcome force.”

“Don’t take.” He listening, but not really. Mostly he’s just echoing. His brain is almost entirely focused on how warm her mouth it, and her lips, and that tongue- She slips her mouth over the head of his cock and sucks, and Trace just moans. “That’s- more of that, Snowman-”

“Good, very good.” Her right hand is still stroking his cock, focusing almost entirely on the base. Snowman’s mouth slides over the head of his cock again, sucking on it on and off until he’s squirming. He can really feel the cock ring digging in now, and the pressure building just behind it. “Third, give her a warning. Don’t just come, unless she’s asking you to. And let her know where you’re coming. It’s incredibly rude to blind someone because they were unaware that you were aiming for the face.”

He nods. Warnings, got it. God her mouth is so hot. It slides further down him, taking in a little more of his shaft with each bob. Her fist pumps the base of him less and less, until her hand is spread out flat on his stomach and her mouth is nearly covering those last few inches of cock. It’s unbelievable how good this feels. No wonder it’s all any other man he’s known has ever been able to talk about. Trace groans, fingers digging into the bedspread. “Snowman, f-f- fuck! That’s so good!”

She chuckles pulling her mouth off and swiping her tongue across the head. “Mmm. I think it’s time we move on.”

Snowman gets him to pop his hips up, working his pants down his body and tugging them off, dropping them with the rest of his clothes. And then she stands, unbuttoning her coat and letting it hit the floor, Trace watches her undress, his cock twitching as her dress slides off, along with her underwear. He’s peeked at her past-trail a few times, caught a glimpse or two. But he wasn’t prepared for the real thing. The real thing was so much better.

“Goddamn Snowman,” He rakes his eyes over her body, openly stating his admiration. She smiles and climbs into bed, sprawling out on the covers.

“Come on, pool shark. Show me what you know.” She coaxes him over and he comes. Trace gets himself pressed up against her, feeling like a kid in an unattended candy shop. His hands barely know what to touch first, so he decides to go for broke and start with the obvious. Trace cups her breasts, giving them a squeeze. He starts to push in, but she stops him. “Make sure to check if she’s ready before you do that. If she’s not, you’re just going to hurt her or piss her off.”

“Okay, point.” He takes his right hand off her breasts and nervously rests it against her cunt. He slips a finger in. She’s wet, really really wet, and he stops for a moment, caught off-guard by just how turned on she is. “Holy shit... was that from just...?”

She nods. He licks his lips nervously, trying not to think about it too much. Trace is already starting to feel a throb deep down in his groin. His fingers cautiously feel around inside of her. He brushes up against a small nub of flesh and she shudders, moaning softly. Trace does it again, and she just looks up at him with those white eyes of hers. “Good, very good. If she’s not wet, finger her until she is.”

“You feel- pretty prepared.” He’s trying not to make it clear how nervous he is right now. It’s not that he’s under some illusion that she doesn’t know he’s nervous. But he would at least like to pretend it isn’t obvious. Trace gives her a few more rubs before sliding his hand out of her, and sliding his cock in. She spreads her thighs, and when he has a spot of trouble, she tilts her hips and helps him find the right place to slide in. Trace groans loudly, shocked by how it feels. It’s not his first time fucking a woman, but she’s warmer than anyone else he’s ever been inside. “G-god, you’re-”

“I know.” She wraps her legs around him, encouraging Trace to start. He does, giving a tentative thrust. Her cunt is fantastic. All of her is fantastic. Her curves are pressing against him, and she’s smiling at Trace and he can’t get enough. He keeps pushing in deeper, trying to find a steady pace. Snowman’s hands hold onto his hips, giving him some suggestions. “Slower, there’s no need to rush. Go slowly and she’ll open up for you. If you push in all at once, you’ll just hurt her.”

“Just- a little at a t-time,” He has to repeat it out loud, because nothing’s staying in his mind. There’s no room for it, not when he’s buried inside of her. He tries to do as he says, slowly the pace down. It’s not like going fast is helping him anyway. The cock ring is really starting to dig in, and he’s ready to come, but there’s no chance of that happening.

“That’s better. Keep it up.” Her tilts her hips a little, moaning with contentment. Trace digs his teeth into his upper lip. He’s never had a woman moan like that before for him. He gets his hands on her hips to keep them turned up like that, and she nods with approval. “Good, very good. Always pay attention to what she’s doing and how she’s reacting to what you’re doing. If you work with her, you’ll easily find a way to make her come.”

Her breasts are right there, and he sets his hand on one, squeezing it. Trace tries to remember what he’s read about, what he’s heard women like. He pinches her nipple, and when that gets a slight wince out of her, he swipes his tongue over it. That gets a better reaction, and he does it again, then tries the other side. She mmm’s softly and he can’t help but grin at her reaction. “You like that?”

“Yes, quite a lot.” She adjusts her hips, lining them back up when he starts to change the angle again. “Careful. You need to- ahh- juggle a few things at once. Multitask.”

“I’m trying.” It’s not all that easy. There’s so much he wants to do with her body. The cock ring isn’t doing anything to dull the sensation, even if it is kind of tight. He gets impatient and pushes in a little deeper. It’s not a bad choice and her mouth falls open, eyes closing momentarily. It feels so good, and he starts fucking her faster. “You- you liked that?”

“It was good. But you still need to be... careful.” She has to pause, flashing her teeth at him for a moment as she twists her hips into a better position again. This angle is even better, and Trace just sinks right into her, groaning loudly. He’s getting a little greedy, but he can’t help himself. There have been plenty of times he’s jerked it while thinking about this, about her. Now he’s inside of her and she’s everything he was hoping for. Snowman gets her hands between them, giving him a reminder. “Trace.”

“Sorry, but-” He digs his teeth into his lip, trying to remind himself to back it down. Right. The point of this is to learn. That’s what the cock ring’s for too.

“I know. But listen.” She squeezes around him and Trace moans, caught off-guard when everything gets super tight and scorching hot. “You won’t have that ring when you go to bed with another woman.”

“Fuck-fuck-fuck!” Trace curses. If it wasn’t for the ring, he would have come right here and now. As it stands, he’s stuck in place, feeling the strain as his body tries to finish while the leather holds him back. “Snowman-”

“Focus. Pay attention to my body.” She loosens her grip on him, pressing his hands against her hips. “Again.”

Trace tries, but half his brain isn’t present anymore. It’s lodged down in his cock, which is harder than he can remember being in ages. His thrusts are off on their timing, and he can’t quite seem to find the right tilt for her hips. The head of his cock is super sensitive right now, and every thrust feels so good that it almost hurts. “ I can’t concentrate like- t-this. I need to come.”

“I haven’t even come yet.” She rocks her hips up against him and Trace moans. Snowman eggs him on, trying to get an angry reaction out of him. “I should have known you would give in. You always did lack staying power in the other areas of your life.”

“N-not helping!” Trace snaps back, but he tries again, really putting his back into it this time. He gets four thrusts in and then he just gives up, unable to stand how badly he wants it. “I can’t- I can’t-” His hands try to go after the cock ring but she catches them. Snowman flips them over, pinning Trace down on the bed and sinking deep onto him, until his cock is all the way inside of her. His groans are agonized - he wants to come so badly, but it just keeps getting more and more intense. “Snowman-”

“We’re not done yet Trace. Just a little longer.” She looks down at him with that sly smile of hers and he moans helplessly, cock throbbing.

“I’m going to die,” He whines, straining against her body. Trace is so desperate. He would do anything to get that ring off.

Snowman laughs, rocking down on Trace evenly. “Plan a bank heist for me.”

“W-what?” He spits the words out, barely able to think. Trace’s eyes slide over the swell of her breasts, landing momentarily on her cunt as she moves back and forth. He sees a flash of green - the base of his shaft - and bites himself with want.

“Oh surely you know how to control an erection when it happens at an inconvenient time. There’s no reason why you can’t do the same while you’re inside of me.” She squeezes around him, clearly to punctuate the point. Trace’s hands grip hers tightly, feeling that unbearable pressure building up in his balls. “I expect you can do the same here, with a little practice. Plan a bank heist for me.”

“I can’t-” That just gets him another squeeze. The tighter she gets, the hotter she gets, and the harder it is for him to breathe. He curses, struggling to breath. “I- y-you just. You just fade into the vault-”

“I’m not using my powers. How do I get in and out. There are two guards, one in the vault, one in the front.” He’s so deep inside of her. She barely slides any of him out when she moves, rolling her hips steady and slowly. There’s no let-up at all, no hope of it while she’s got that leather wrapped around him.

“Y-you- you break in through the back, while the g-guard’s up front. There’s- there’s bound to be a-a door. A fire escape- you just-” He struggles to think clearly, to put words in sentences instead of just babbling. “Y-you. Cut the alarm. L-let yourself in. Get to the v-vault. Force him to open it up and t-then- get rid of him-”

It’s working, sort of. He’s still hard and he still wants to come, but it’s not quite as unbearable. The more he talks, the easier it is to keep talking. She’s still rocking down on him, but he can cope with this. He can handle it.

But then, just as he thinks he has it, she squeezes and he arches up, whining as the intensity ramps up. She laughs again, giving him an apologetic look. “I couldn’t resist. You were just so serious...”

“Snowman, please-” He begs her openly and shamelessly. Trace is going to die if he doesn’t come soon. Her hands keep him pinned to the bed and her hips keep moving mercilessly. Snowman’s pace quickens, and through the fuzz of madness, he can see a change in her face and her cheeks growing even darker. “Please!”

“Soon,” She promises in a low tone, the sound of her voice just sinking straight through him and making Trace moan desperately. One hand slides up to cup his face, thumb brushing over his cheek. “Very soon.”

Trace closes his eyes and strains. He tries to think of anything else, anything in the world. Images quickly cycle through his mind: blueprints, stakeouts, three a.m. when the world is still, old apartments, stale food, blood- fuck, that’s not helping. His cock desperately twitches, needing to be freed. She moans and his eyes snap open.

Snowman’s arching her back, changing her angle as she quickly ruts down against him. Her hand slides off his face, grasping a breast and squeezing. He watches and he memorizing the way she looks, how beautiful and terrifying she when she’s chasing something she wants. Trace has seen the look on her face before in the moment before she pulls the trigger of her gun. She frees his hands, and he grabs hold of her, forgetting for just a moment about how bad his balls are aching, about how he’s ready to explode. For a moment, he’s lost in the twisting of her face and the knowledge that he’s doing this to her.

Then she comes, and he loses his goddamn mind as she squeezes tight around him. She’s moaning and he’s giving a hoarse little scream, overwhelmed by everything. The sensation is too much. She’s gripping him and he’s digging his fingers into her shell, his mind completely empty except for the blinding desire to come. Snowman keeps rocking down against Trace until she’s done, and then she slides off.

Her fingers fumble with the cock ring, undoing the snap on the third try. She doesn’t even have to touch him. All that pressure just blows and he comes harder than he has in his entire life. Everything goes white and he just writhes on the bed, feeling nothing but a burst of pleasure and relief. He thrashes about until it’s no longer overwhelming, and then he just collapses, breath coming in quick desperate bursts. He can feel something hot and wet on his belly, and he doesn’t even want to look to see how much of a mess he’s made.

Snowman’s touching his face, her soft lips kissing his forehead and his mouth in no particular order. “What a good boy you are.” He just groans, completely unable to string together two words. She chuckles and gives him another kiss, this one on the cheek. “You still have a lot of learn, but I think this was a very good start.”

Trace tries to say something, but all that comes out in an incoherent slur of vowels. Snowman laughs, patting him on the shoulder. He watches her get to her feet and pull a robe on, unsteadily walking off to her washroom. Trace hears the shower kick on, and he just lays in her bed, trying to think through the low-level haze of pleasure short-circuiting his brain.

He should get up and go to his room. Or maybe slip into the shower behind Snowman. Or maybe he should just forget about all of that and just fall asleep in her bed. The first two choices require actual effort, and Trace ends up drifting off, the steady sound of the shower lulling him into sleep.

When he wakes up, it’s morning and she’s gone, and he’s kind of a mess. Trace staggers out of the bed, his body still a bit sore from last night. He heads for her shower, hoping she doesn’t mind him using it.

There’s a note taped to the mirror in her delicate handwriting and he stops, reading it between yawns. It’s short; just a time and a reminder not to be late. Even though he’s half asleep, he can’t help but a laugh a little. She never needed any help with hustling; she’s already got it down-pat.

He steps into the shower, turning up the water as hot as he can stand and just lets it course over his back. Trace smiles to himself, imagining about what they’ll go over next.


End file.
